


Pulse

by TheRedWulf



Series: Stansa One Shots [7]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Modeling, Modern Era, No Plot, Photography, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Sexy!Stannis, Smut, fluff & smut, plot holes, stansa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 16:24:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20156545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRedWulf/pseuds/TheRedWulf
Summary: AU - Modern - In which Stannis steals his nephew's date…Picset is viewableHERE





	Pulse

**Author's Note:**

> One shots, one shots for everyone!
> 
> I have maxed out the rating, for reasons. This is just an excuse for smut.  
For the 100th time I don't consider myself a writer. This is unbeta'd so I apologize for any errors.
> 
> Thank you for reading!

“You look as bored as I feel” a soft voice broke into his reverie as he sat along the bar at the annual Baratheon Christmas Gala. As a Baratheon it was required he attend, but that didn’t mean he would enjoy it. Social gatherings of all sizes were awful and he usually cried off, but it was Christmas and Robert had begged. 

The designer clutch slammed onto the wooden bartop before the tall, shockingly beautiful woman sank onto the barstool beside him with a groan. Her high heels then landed on the hardwood with twin thuds, the action making his mouth twitch in a smile. 

He knew who she was, all of Westeros would know her anywhere, Sansa Stark. Heiress, beauty and model extraordinaire. He couldn't walk to work or open a magazine without seeing her face, and a lovely face it was. She had hair the color of sunfire, a thousand shades seeming to make up the perfectly elegant bun she wore with her black gown. The gown itself was long sleeved and modest from the front but the back dipped low enough that he had trouble tearing his eyes away when he had noticed her earlier. 

He wasn’t known for his portrait photography, but he imagined she would be very lovely to photograph. To capture every angle, curve and freckle---

“Sansa Stark” she extended a hand to him with a soft smile. 

“Stannis Baratheon” he briefly shook her hand, her skin feeling like silk against his own. 

“Ah, the photographer then” she gave a nod. “I saw your pieces on the Storm’s End ruins, fantastic work. I loved the black and whites.”

“Did you?” he tried not to sound too shocked but she must’ve caught his surprise and she laughed softly. 

“Don’t sound so surprised, Mr. Baratheon. I wanted to be a photographer, in school” she motioned to the bartender. “I still have several 35mm that I take with me when I travel sometimes.”

“A film junky, impressive” he couldn’t help but tease. “And please, call me Stannis.”

“Hardly, and please, call me Sansa” she ordered a whisky, neat and asked for Stannis’ lemon water to be refilled. 

“Forgive me” he said seriously. “But how does a Stark find herself at a Baratheon party?”

“I was on a date” she laughed as her drink arrived. He watched her stroke the top of the glass with a slender finger. “A first date, actually.”

“It doesn’t seem as if there will be a second” Stannis noted. 

“No, not for me at least” she turned on her stool and raised her glass to where his nephew Joffrey was now inappropriately kissing a brunette-haired woman near the terrace. Stannis ground his teeth at the thought of Sansa dating a shit like his nephew. Joffrey was ill-mannered, ill-tempered and completely spoiled. “I know” Sansa had turned back and caught his scowl. “I thought if I said yes to one date he’d leave me alone.”

“Seems like your plan has worked” Stannis quipped and she laughed. 

“Lucky for me” she stated with a smile. “Instead I get to pick your brain.”

“I assure you, my brain is not worth picking” he scoffed, not entirely sure if she was flirting with him or not. Women and their nuances had never been his strong suit, especially one not as young and beautiful as she was. 

“Untrue” she countered. “Any man who would climb into the ruins of a castle to capture images like you have must be interesting.”

“Doubtful.”

“Bah” she shook her head. “Why did you become a photographer, Stannis?”

He paused for a moment, then replied “I love to observe the world, I suppose. To see it and translate its every breath and moment. Not just in time but in place and feel. Everything in this world has a pulse for those who care to see it, I seek to capture that.” 

As he finished, he watched as her tongue darted across the bright red of her lower lip, “You are a man of hidden passion, Stannis Baratheon” she decided, her voice soft, cutting through him. “Don’t try to deny it,” she smirked then. “A portrait photographer would have said to make money, or to be famous, but you have a passion for your art.”

“And you, Sansa, do you have a passion for modeling?” he asked. 

“Absolutely not” she shook her head. “That is a means to pay the bills. One day I will no longer be beautiful so I hope to be able to support myself when the time comes” she teased. 

“I am certain that not even time could steal your beauty” he said before he could stop himself. 

“Passion. I told you,” she noted and sipped her drink. “Which makes me wonder if you’re truly as cold as they say” she leaned closer and he suddenly found himself surrounded by her floral perfume. “No, I think not” she looked deeply into his eyes and he felt exposed, laid bare.

He knew what they said about him both in his family and society. Cold, stoic, dead inside, they all believed him to be as aloof from the world as he could be. An automatronic being with no heart or feelings. He supposed that is why he had oddly related to _Jane Eyre_ when he first read the novel as a young man. To be believed so cold but to feel so deeply was a curse in truth. 

He hadn’t remained single and alone as a means to escape people, it was a choice he had made to wait for the right person. He did not seek beauty, wealth or lust in a partner, he sought someone who he could truly grow with, someone who would see the true him without grand gestures or sweeping romance. Since he had not met her, he remained unattached. 

It was terrifying to think, then, in that moment that Sansa Stark had sat beside him not a quarter hour ago and laid him bare on the bar top. He had never felt this exposed to another, and to think, they had barely spoken. 

Sansa smiled over at the man she had shocked into silence, or perhaps made extremely uncomfortable and he was thinking of an excuse to leave. She had spotted him the moment she entered the party beside Joffrey. Where her date was immature and golden, this man was tall, imposing and positively emanated power. The moment Joffrey had abandoned her she was drawn to his side, grateful that he was alone at the bar. 

Upon hearing his deep, clear voice and was instantly intrigued. She could have listened to him talk for hours. His eyes flashed with every emotion, though they passed so quickly it was easy to miss them. She shouldn’t have been surprised to learn he was Joffrey’s photographer uncle, a man whose work she had admired for some time. It only served to make him all the more desirable. 

And there was no denying that he was desirable. If there was ever a man she would let tie her to the bed with his necktie, it was Stannis Baratheon. 

She had spoken the truth about Joffrey, she had no desire to go anywhere with him but he was driving her insane with his insistence and she had finally relented. Now, of course, she was grateful as she was sitting here with Mr. Silver Fox, tall, dark and handsome himself. 

His words earlier, about the pulse of the world had spoken to her on a level that she couldn’t explain and Gods did she want to throw him onto the bar and have her way with him. Photography had been her passion in school, but her mother insisted there was no money in art and pushed Sansa to attend school in King’s Landing, where, ironically enough a modeling agent had found her. 

‘Intellectual foreplay’ Arya would call it. Two people who connect on a level beyond just lust, a meeting of minds, it was how Arya had explained how she knew her now husband Jaqen had been _the one_ for her. 

She talked with Stannis for hours, ignoring the Christmas crowd around them. She nursed her single drink and they found themselves in their own private world. They talked about everything that came to mind and before she had realized it she had moved her stool closer, their legs brushing as they moved. 

“Hey” Joffrey’s not-too-sober voice broke into her happiness and she frowned deeply as he reached for her arm. “Come on, we’re leaving with Margo---Marg---Margaery.”

“No” Sansa replied firmly. “I am not going anywhere with you and I will thank you not to speak to me again.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” he glared. “You’re my date and---”

“She’s with me now, and we’re leaving” Stannis cold voice cut in as the larger man unfolded himself from the barstool and towered over his nephew. Stannis was far from short and the breadth of his shoulders made him look even larger than he was. It was as if Joffrey had not realized who Sansa was speaking to before his Uncle spoke, but now the boy's eyes were wide with fear as he stumbled back. Stannis’ hand found hers and he helped her to her feet. He waited while she slipped into her shoes and then looped her arm over his. “Goodnight, Nephew.”

Sansa held her giggles until they were on the steps of the posh hotel, then she let loose. She giggled then laughed, looking up at the man beside her who was oddly smiling himself. 

“Hey” she slid her hand from his arm and into his hand once more. “I have an idea” she motioned up the street where the neon lights of the 1950’s Drive-In and Diner called to them. “Yeah?”

“Yeah” he nodded. And that was how they found themselves in an over the top retro diner, sticking out like sore thumbs in their formal wear, but having the time of their lives. 

Their late, improvised dinner had been the best of his life and he couldn’t have explained the impulse that had him inviting her to his apartment for a drink afterwards, nor could he explain the shock he felt at her quick acceptance. 

He didn’t remember who moved first, but it didn't matter. By the time they were in the elevator of his building they were wild with lust, kissing, groping and tasting each other with abandon. He was grateful she had wiped the red lipstick away with the paper napkin of the diner before they tucked into burgers, fries and split a piece of apple pie. 

His hands were travelling the bare skin of her back when the door chimed and they spilled into the foyer of his penthouse, a benefit of being a Baratheon, he supposed. 

Once inside she kicked her shoes off once more as her clutch was tossed to the couch and her hands returned to his tuxedo jacket. The expensive material was thrown away and his hands returned, carding into her hair and sending the style free. Her hair spilled into waves to her waist and he groaned at the sight. 

“Beautiful” he whispered before she was kissing him again. It was wild, abandoned and he had never felt anything like it in his life. A night of firsts, he reasoned as her hands all but tore open his shirt and shoved it and his tie away. 

“Bed?” she gasped between kisses, pulling his undershirt away and leaving him only in his slacks. Her hands trailed across his bare skin and he groaned at her touch. This woman was intoxicating and he felt drunk on her touch. 

“First” he managed to kick his brain into gear and gave into the desire to push her gown from her shoulders. With little assistance the sheath fell to the floor and she was left before him in the smallest pair of panties he had ever seen. “Gods” he wrapped his arms around her, feeling the bare warmth of her breasts smash against the lean muscle of his chest for the first time. 

He lifted her easily and made his way down the hall to the master bedroom where he deposited her on the navy blue coverlet and crawled atop her. 

“Stannis” she cried out as he suckled deeply from one breast and then the other. He had never felt this out of control and he couldn’t wait to bury himself inside of her. Parting from her breasts with a lick he trailed down her body, his hands making quick work of the scraps of lace that covered her mound. He’d have felt about tearing them but they were soaked and ruined anyway. 

He tossed the ripped panties behind him as he nuzzled his face against her inner thigh before licking his way to her folds. Her hands trailed into his silver and black hair, nails digging into his scalp as she panted his name. It had been a very, very long time since he had been intimate with a woman, so he did his best to call on every ancient memory he could as he ate her. She was already soaked, her folds a delicious pink that had him licking her like a man starved. 

She was writhing and squirming but he held her pinned with strong hands and there was no mistaking when she came. She soaked his face and the coverlet with her juices, her entire body shaking as she rode her peak. He left her core with a teasing lick, moving back to divest himself of the last of his clothing. 

Sansa could barely move but she forced herself onto her elbows to watch Stannis as he shed his slacks and boxer briefs, the hard length of him springing free from its confines. He was tall, lean and just as powerful looking naked as he was in his tuxedo. She watched as he stared down at her, taking his thick cock in hand to give it a long, slow stroke. The tip was already leaking and she gave into the urge to taste him as he had her. 

Moving to her knees she crawled to the edge of the bed and as he held himself, she leaned forward to lick him from bast to tip, cleaning away the precum. 

“You do that and this will be over before it begins” he promised, his voice was dark and husky.

“But it's such a lovely cock” she leaned forward to lick him once more and his growl sent shivers down her spine. 

“Then imagine how good it is going to feel in that lovely pussy of yours” he countered and moved forward. His approached forced her onto her back and he crawled over her once more. She took him in hand, marvelling at his size before lining him at her core. “Condom--”

“Pill and there hasn’t been anyone in a long time,” she said softly. 

“Same” he gave a scoff and leaned forward to kiss her swollen lips. She sighed and guided him to where she needed him most and he took the hint, tilting forward so the head slipped into her. “Gods” he exhaled then surged forward, filling her to over-full in a brutal movement that had her gasping for air. 

“Fuck” she choked out as her body adjusted to him. She hadn’t been a virgin for years but she certainly felt like she’d never taken a cock until his slid into her. He filled every inch, the race of his pulse echoing through her as he stilled, deep in her cunt. “Fucking Gods, Stannis” she gasped his name as she lifted her legs to wrap them around him, her hands going to the curve of his ass, fingers digging into the mucle. 

He kissed her briefly before pulling back, “Did I hurt you--”

“No” she cut him off. “And if you don’t fuck me with that glorious cock of yours soon, I am going to lose my mind” she urged him to move with her hands on his ass and he took direction well. 

His look of concern melted back to lust as he braced himself on his elbows, “Greedy little thing” he slowly dragged himself from her body before slamming deep once more. She cried out at his movements, the bed moving with them as he started a rhythm. 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck” she released his ass to grab ahold of the metal headboard, anchoring herself as he fucked her. She had thought he was a man of passion when he spoke of photography at the bar, but she had no idea this lay beneath his cool facade. She’d gone to the party expecting a boring date and never would have guessed she would end up being thoroughly fucked by Stannis Baratheon. 

He kissed her as his hips pistoned in and out of her, the wet noises filling the room along with their grunts and cries. She could only hold on as she was wracked by pleasure with each thrust. 

“More” she begged as he moved to suck her breasts once more. 

“You’re not going to be able to walk tomorrow” he whispered the warning with a chuckle, rolling a nipple between his teeth. 

“Please, pleaseplease” she begged, sobbing as she felt her body racing towards another orgasm. She could barely breathe and felt deep within her that when she came it was going to be messy, he was hitting that place inside of her that was going to send her into oblivion, a place she’d never managed to reach before.

“Be a good girl and come on my cock” he sped his hips and loud slaps filled the room until she lost hearing altogether, screaming her pleasure as she came harder that she’d come in her life. 

Stannis kept fucking her as she contorted in pleasure beneath him, clining to the iron bed frame as her cunt soaked him and the bed. She was a goddess, perfection in every way and he still couldn’t believe he was inside of her. He kept moving, drawing her orgasm out for as long as he could, before he slowed. 

“I didn’t...oh Gods” she was lax beneath him, mewling in pleasure as she tried to catch her breath. 

“Sansa” he whispered, lapping at her nipple. She opened her eyes to look at him and he felt the smirk take his lips before he could stop it. “I’m not done with you” he promised darkly, rocking within her once more. 

“Fuck” she gasped. “I can’t move…”

“You don’t have to” he helped her to roll over, propping her on her knees as her hands returned to the bed frame. When he sank into her once more she felt tighter and wetter than before, her body clamping around his. They’d connected in mind at the party and now they were connecting in body in ways he almost wished he could photograph. Everything in the world has a pulse, he said, and he could feel Sansa’s around him. 

“Please” she begged as he began to move, slowly at first but bottoming out every time. 

“What do you want?” he asked her, sliding out of her and running his hands over her back and her chest, cupping her breasts. 

“Please give me your cock” she mewled as he slid into her once more, her words shooting through him. “So good, baby, fuck” she squirmed as he pushed too deep, her hands slipping from the bed frame and then she was face down in the pillows, her ass in the air. “Fuck, yes” she screamed as he lost himself to the sight of her and started to fuck her in earnest. He filled his hands with her ass and used his grip to rut into her over and over. He tore his gaze from her face for a brief moment to watch himself plow into her perfect pussy, her fluids coating him with each movement. 

He felt his own release as it built at the base of his spine and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to hold it off much longer, she was too beautiful, wet, hot, and sinful for him to last. He slid his fingers to her clit, circling and teasing her as he took her, the bed all but slamming against the wall as she screamed out for his cock. 

“Come for me,” he urged her, moving faster, their skin slapping together once more. 

“Stannis” she gasped, choked and then screamed as it took her, her muscles clenching violently around him as she soaked him once more. She was crying and cursing incoherently and with a growl of his own he slammed deep and let loose, his cum rushing into her body on a wave of white hot pleasure. She squirmed, trembled as he came and soon they were both collapsing onto the blankets, panting and covered in sweat and cum. 

“Gods” he wiped his face and turned to see her rolling toward him, languid and boneless. 

“Your cock is a national treasure, Stannis Baratheon” she kissed him softly. “And next time I want it in my throat.” 

“Give me fifteen minutes” he pulled her close. “Twenty, tops.” She laughed in response, kissing him once more as they relaxed in their lust induced haze. 

Sansa woke to the sunshine coming through the window over the bed. It was her favorite room in the penthouse, she had decided early on, the master bedroom. The large bed sat in a floor to ceiling window that allowed them to lay together and watch the world go by. Turning she saw that Stannis was still asleep beside her, his face relaxed in slumber. Hair was all silver now and she loved it, her ‘silver fox’ she’d call him and he would just scoff and shake his head.

She had lived here with him for nearly seven years now and she loved every bit of it. She hadn’t expected her life to change the night of the Christmas party but it had in ways she never could have dreamed of. She had woken the next day after the party beside Stannis, barely able to walk and utterly at peace. They’d spent that entire weekend together and when they reluctantly parted, it was with each others’ phone numbers and a promise of another date. 

And date they did. She fell hard and fast for the dark, passionate man beneath the facade and knew within the first few months of dating that she had found the man she would live her life with. ‘The Odd Couple’ the society pages called them, a name she didn’t care for but it made Stannis laugh. He didn’t care what they thought, as long as they were together and she couldn’t help but agree.

The world at large had been surprised to see their beloved Sansa Stark had chosen a man just over 20 years her senior, but it soon became apparent that they were a pair deeply in love. Her instagram, with over 15 million followers, watched as her cold, polished, poised photos from events and ads slowly melted into adorable selfies, photos of her man at work, them and their dog in the mountains or just them together on his adventures. The once ‘too-perfect’ model suddenly became real, loveable and happy. Her fans’ support had been overwhelming. 

Stannis once told her about the world’s pulse and she realized that with him she had learned to see it, to feel it as she experienced life at his side.

Stannis, who rarely photographed people in the past had taken to candidly photographing her in their daily life. Her dancing on the beach, lounging with their dog ‘Lady’ on the foothills of Storm’s End or cooking in their home. It was his photographs that broke their secrets to the world. They’d post them together, on their own terms, and then fall back to bed where they’d make love for hours. 

“I am his and he is mine” the caption read on the photo of them at the small, bohemian wedding they’d shared in the North. They hadn’t told anyone aside from their best man and maid of honor, Davos and Arya respectively, that the party they’d invited their families to at Winterfell was in fact their wedding. Everyone had been shocked to see it upon arrival and happily watched as they exchanged vows. She had been careful not to wear her ring in public, not wanting the media frenzy that would follow a Stark-Baratheon wedding. Their caution paid off and they were able to enjoy a quiet, small wedding with their family. 

“Blessed are we three” was the caption on the photo of Sansa standing on their balcony, her flowing dress hinting at the swell of her stomach beneath. Stannis had snapped it with one of his cameras as he worked across the room at his desk, editing photos from their recent adventure in Dorne. 

The moment news broke, maternity companies began been beating down her door for a chance to have her in their ads. Sansa took a few jobs, but mostly she wanted to enjoy being pregnant, feeling their child as it grew inside of her. It was incredible to her, the life they had created together and she wanted to remember every milestone of her first pregnancy.

Little Steffon, the image of his father with the bright Tully eyes, had arrived 4 years ago and she couldn’t describe how much she loved being a mother, just as she knew that Stannis adored being a father. These days she didn’t work more often than not, instead she spent time with her husband and son, grateful the years of success she had before allowed her to enjoy watching her son grow. 

It was odd, sometimes, to have people recognize her and her family on the street. Even on days when they’d just be grocery shopping or enjoying the park, people and media would sneak photos of them. Stannis would grumble and make snide comments about their equipment before ensuring his wife and son were safe. 

Speaking of, she smiled as the door to the bedroom opened and little feet padded to the bed, “Mom?”

“Come here baby” she said quietly and helped him onto the bed. Smiling, Steffon crawled between her and Stannis and lay down. 

“Dad” he whispered and Stannis was instantly awake. 

“What’s wrong?” Stannis looked around and Sansa smiled, he was such a good dad. 

“It’s Christmas” Steffon laughed snuggling against his father’s chest. 

“Oh right” Stannis smiled and kissed the crown of his son’s red-black hair. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas” Sansa leaned over Steffon to kiss her husband briefly. “Steff did you see if Santa left you a stocking by the tree?” Sansa asked and the boy perked up. 

“I have to look” Steffon scrambled from the bed and ran into the hall. 

“Merry Christmas” Sansa leaned forward to kiss her husband deeply as Steffon’s laughter echoed in the penthouse. “I love you.”

“I love you” he held her tight before smoothing a hand over the small swell of her stomach with a smile. “We’d better get up before he spots the bike.”

“Good idea” she laughed as a scream of joy filled the air. Eyes wide they both scrambled from bed, pulling on their robes as they went to make sure their son wasn’t riding his new bike in the house.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Follow me on tumblr for pic sets and more shenanigans!  
@the-red-wulf or https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/


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